An Act of Kindness
by defyingnormalcy
Summary: Sharon and Rusty have a discussion about communication and trust.


Rusty was somewhat hesitant as he entered the kitchen of Sharon's condo after hearing her polite request that he join her for a moment. He tugged his earphones out of his ears and twirled them nervously between his fingers; Sharon was stirring something in large mugs on the counter.

"Um, you wanted to speak with me?" he said to announce his presence.

Sharon turned around, mugs in hand, and offered him a smile. "Would you please join me on the couch?" she requested in that same polite, even tone.

"Uh, yeah. Sure thing." He jammed the earphones in his pocket, along with his phone, and followed her to her couch.

"I made us hot chocolate," Sharon said as she held out a mug for Rusty.

He took it, delighting in the warmth of the mug and the sweetness of the melted marshmallows over the steaming beverage.

"Thanks Sharon." He smiled weakly. He stared at the mug for a long moment before drinking; he could not remember the last time an adult had made him hot chocolate.

"I wanted to have a serious discussion with you Rusty." She took a sip from her own mug and hummed happily at the flavour of the rich chocolate on her tongue. "Firstly, to clarify, I want you to know that this is a safe environment for you to say anything you need to or want to. Nothing you say to me will ever be shared with anyone without your permission. In return, I would like you to be honest with me whenever we have a serious discussion."

He shifted in his seat; a feeling of utter panic began to prickle at his skin.

"Rusty, this is a safe place for you," she repeated, "I would never compromise your trust or your safety."

He risked a glance at her, saw the hardened resolve and sincerity in her eyes, and let out a ragged breath. "Okay. I believe you," he paused, "You want to know why I didn't tell you about the letters, don't you?" he asked quietly.

"I already know why. I don't want to talk about the letters, at least not specifically. I just want to talk to you about openness and communication and our relationship- "

"Is this going to be like our discussion about respect?" he countered.

"Yes, it is," she said with a hint of a smile. She waited for his approving nod to continue. "My children and I have an open-communication policy. That means if they're upset, or in danger, or angry, or just confused and frustrated, they know they can talk to me about it. We can have a discussion, or they can just vent and I will listen, without judgment. You are my…"

_Son_. It was so tempting to call him that. She loved him like a son.

"…responsibility. I am your legal guardian and I want you to always feel safe enough to share your feelings with me. Even if they don't make sense to you. Even if you think I might disagree with you. I want you to know, that this place, will always be a home to you. When we are here, I'm just Sharon. I leave Captain Raydor at that front door and I am your foster parent first and foremost," she said firmly; she bit the inside of her cheek to keep down the wave of emotion crashing against her heart.

Rusty fiddled with the handle on his mug. "Did you do this with them? Your kids?"

"Yes. We had a lot of talks and hot chocolates like this when I first separated from their father. It was a difficult time for everyone and they both had a lot of anger that they didn't know how to deal with." She smiled fondly. "My daughter in particular had quite the sweet tooth as a teenager. And she liked her hot chocolate with peppermint candies on the marshmallows."

Rusty grimaced. "I like my marshmallows plain please."

Sharon giggled. "Noted. I won't forget."

"So, even if I like did something or said something really stupid, I can tell you. But…I won't get in trouble?" he asked confusedly.

"You can tell me, and we will have a discussion about why you did it and what we can do next time to prevent you from getting into trouble," she clarified.

"Does this openness and communication go both ways?"

Sharon considered his question for a moment. "Yes, it does. It would be unfair for me to ask you to be open with me if I am not prepared to reciprocate."

"Okay," Rusty nodded and repeated, "okay. Deal." He held a hand out.

"Deal." She shook his hand then squeezed his forearm affectionately. Times like this were the hardest; it was during these moments that she most wanted to hug him, or ruffle his hair, or kiss his forehead.

Rusty drained the contents of his mug. "May I be excused? I wanted to listen to a new album that I downloaded before bed."

"Of course honey," she said.

Rusty stood and walked over to the dishwasher to properly dispose of his mug. As he rinsed it and placed it, carefully, on the top rack of the dishwasher, he noticed a variety of items on the counter. Hot chocolate mix, a kettle, a bag of marshmallows, and a small shaker filled with sea salt.

Smirking slightly at his foster mother's odd taste in beverages, he vowed to remember this little detail so that he too could surprise her with an act of kindness sometime soon.


End file.
